[rd][fic][Rise of the Guardians] Scenes, part 8

[sakon76]

Scenes From the Life and Death of Jackson Overland Frost
Part 8: Lost Boys
by K. Stonham
first released 17th December, 2012

October, 1910

Jack was in London, his toes curling around the cast iron at the very edge of the clock tower at the Palace of Westminster, plotting his icy dance through the city, when he saw the boy.

It wasn't that the boy was clad only in leaves. Nor was it the fact that he was only a really little boy, out at night. No, what caught Jack's attention was the way that the boy swooped through the air, diving and laughing with as much glee as Jack himself did.

He couldn't help it. He stared for a moment, as the laughing boy soared past the clock face. "Huh, how about that?" Jack asked himself, a grin stealing across his face. He leapt off the roof, and flew after the smaller boy.

The other kid was fast and had the advantage of knowing where he was going. Jack almost lost him a few times when the boy dipped down low into the warren of London's streets. But he inevitably flew higher again. Between that and the odd bit of golden light that flitted around the boy, Jack managed to find him again each time.

Eventually, the flying boy landed on a residential rooftop, quite near to the edge, and leaned down to peek in the window below. The golden light flickered about him, but now he batted it off impatiently.

Jack cocked his head to one side and landed lightly behind the boy. Keeping quiet, never quite touching the actual roof, he moved forward, curious to see what had the child's interest.

"--and then the clock stuck midnight. Once, twice, three times it chimed before Cinderella noticed..." a woman's voice said from inside the window.

Jack grinned and knelt down beside the boy. "Listening to fairy tales?" he asked.

The boy's reaction was instantaneous. He yelped, jumping away and drawing a sword on Jack all in the same movement.

Jack held up his hands. "Hey, easy," he said. "I just wanted to see what you were up to. I'm Jack Frost."

Large eyes regarded him for a moment, then the boy nodded, his sword lowering. "Peter Pan."

"Come here often?"

Peter nodded. "The lady here tells stories. I tell them to the other boys."

"Other boys?" Jack stood up slowly. Rather fond of not being skewered, he didn't want the boy to feel threatened.

"The lost boys."

"Lost boys," Jack repeated to himself. "Guess I'm kind of a lost boy, too."

Peter brightened up at that, sheathing his sword. He grinned, and his baby teeth gleamed like pearls. Then the expression disappeared. "You sure you're not too old?" he asked suspiciously.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Jack promised, fingers making said gesture over his heart. Peter's little light thing spun circles around him several times, then went back to flitting around the leaf-clad boy. "What is that?"

"Tinker Bell. She's my fairy."

Jack's eyebrows rose. "I've never met a real fairy before." Doffing an imaginary cap, he bowed low. "It's my pleasure to meet you, Miss Bell."

The flitting light seemed to pause for a moment, then came over to hover in front of Jack. Straightening, he slowly extended a hand toward her, palm up.

The fairy landed on his hand.

She weighed no more than a snowflake. Now that she was not flitting about, Jack could see her clearly. She was a slightly plump girl, no bigger than his hand, clad in an exquisite gown made from a skeleton leaf. She was quite beautiful, really, and had translucent wings that would have made the vainest damselfly jealous. She said something, in the loveliest tinkling of golden bells. Then she was gone, flying by Peter again.

Below them, the nursery light went out, and only the night-lights remained.

Peter scowled. "You've made me miss the end of the story!"

"Sorry," Jack said. Seeing how Peter was mortally offended, though, he scrambled for a peace offering. "I can tell you another story, if you'd like."

Peter's expression was mulish for a moment, but then it softened. "What kind of story?"

"The best kind," Jack promised. "A true one."

"All right."

He thought about it for a second. "Once upon a time," Jack started, because that was how all fairy tales started, "there was a lake in winter. It was all cold and frozen. And the moon shone down on it, and decided to make a boy. It carved him out of ice and lake water, and pulled him up into the night air. He looked up at the moon, and it was so bright that he wasn't scared of the dark."

"Then what happened?" Peter demanded.

Jack smiled. "Then the boy found out what the moon made him to do." He leaned on his staff, leaned forward. "The moon made the boy so that there would always be someone to bring winter," he whispered, like he was telling a secret. Jack raised his hand to his lips and blew across it.

Snowflakes blew into existence, surrounding Peter Pan and Tinker Bell. Fat, white, and fluffy, they drifted in the slight breeze. Wide-eyed, Peter raised his face to the sky -

- and laughed in delight.

Jack and his new friend played tag through the London night, Jack bringing the first snowfall of the year. Peter played in the snow, making snowmen and snowforts and having snowball fights with Jack. It was nearly dawn by the time Peter stopped, making one last angel in a churchyard. "Time to go," he said, rising into the air.

Jack followed him for a bit, looking down in pleasure on the newly-white city. Peter paused, though, in Whitechapel, then dove down to the streets. Jack hovered, unsure if he was wanted, as Peter -

Oh.

As Peter approached a small, still form in an alley. "Hullo," Peter said, and Jack could see the moment the beggar child's spirit stepped away from its old body. "Would you like to come with me? I can show you the way, just for a bit."

Spirit and child and fairy rose into the air, and when they passed Jack by, there was no more recognition in Peter's eyes.

Jack hovered there, for a long time, watching as they flew into the rising sun, until finally the light was too bright for even his eyes.

He saw Peter again, from time to time, and always made sure to play with the eternal infant. Jack wasn't sure just what Peter was, but there was no harm in him; the boy was gay and innocent and heartless in a way only children could manage. And if Peter never remembered Jack... well, Jack always remembered him.

*~*~*

Author's Note: Based very much on the book of Peter Pan, not any of the film versions. As for Jack's more positive attitude here than in the movie as to why the Man in the Moon made him... I figure he's had ups and downs over the centuries, and finding another child who could see him, even if that child was a spirit like Peter, probably was a bit of an upswing. Unfortunately, Peter is chiefly self-concerned, and forgetful, so Jack may well have hit a corresponding low shortly thereafter.